


First Kisses and Soup

by goodemornting



Category: Canada's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, Lemjuice is an adorable gay disaster, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Smut, attempts at cooking, ‘I forgot a shirt after a shower’ classic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodemornting/pseuds/goodemornting
Summary: “Juicy, oh my God,” Lemon groans, throwing both hands over her face to cover her flushed cheeks. “Please stop talking. I promise I don’t want you to tie me up.” Then, smaller, “Not right now, anyway.”Juice absolutely cannot process that without driving the car into a ditch, so she takes a deep breath, holds it, exhales slowly, and says, “Good. No tying up. Copy that.”They haven’t even kissed. This might not be how you’re supposed to date someone.Alternatively: Lemon and Juice figure out How To Relationship (with a few mishaps along the way).
Relationships: Juice Boxx/Lemon (Drag Race)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	First Kisses and Soup

**Author's Note:**

> Some rly soft fluff to cut through all the serious stuff I’ve been writing recently!! This is kinda lemjuice being new to dating, and watching their relationship progress //0x0// Hope you enjoy!!

In retrospect, a five-hour road trip might not have been the brightest idea for the start of a third date.

“I’m sleepy.” Lemon whines, pursed lips shiny after she had been reapplying her lipgloss every two seconds.

“Sleep,” Juice smiles, reaching over to ruffle her hair. It was getting longer, the yellow dye growing out meaning her roots were turning a pretty strawberry blonde. Juice probably shouldn’t find that as massively endearing as she does.

Lemon shakes her head. “No,” she says, determined, “I wanna stay up with you.”

“There’s a long way ahead,” Juice giggled, “You can sleep now and stay up with me later.”

Lemon’s nose scrunches like she’s considering it. “But,” she says with a pout, “We can’t skip the bonding.”

Juice blinked, almost missing their turn. “The what?"

“The bonding,” Lemon repeats, “You know, the little things. We’re going to be together for the whole weekend, might as well learn some more stuff about each other.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Juice sighed, “I thought you said the _bondage_.” Her laughter is high and awkward, the kind that Priyanka compares to windshield-wiper sounds. “I don’t know how I feel about tying you up, considering I’ve known you since you were fifteen.”

“Juicy,” Lemon groaned, shrinking into her seat. “What the fuck.”

“I mean,” Juice stutters, because, apparently, she is physically incapable of just moving on without making it worse. “You’ve obviously got the thighs for it, I just—,”

“Juliana, oh my _God_ ,” Lemon threw both hands over her face to hide her flushed cheeks, “Please stop talking. I promise I don’t want you to tie me up.” Then, smaller, “Not right now, anyway.”

Juice absolutely cannot process that without driving the car into a ditch, so she takes a deep breath, holds it, and exhales slowly. “Good. No tying up. Copy that.”

They haven’t even kissed. This might not be how you’re supposed to date someone. Juice wouldn’t know. Their version of flirting consists of Lemon flinging herself on her back like one of those giant puppies who doesn’t grasp the basic principles of gravity and how they might apply to her own body weight and then calling Juice old when she fails to hold her up for more than five seconds.

Needless to say, the initial few weeks were strange. She had started thinking about Lemon at night, during the day, in the shower, and the thoughts started stretching over multiple boundaries Juice wasn’t ready for just yet. She had a whole panicked one-hour-twenty-seven-minute phone conversation with Kyne about it, which ended with the very wise words just ask her out and don’t wake me up in the middle of the night to discuss your pussy again, please.

Miraculously, Juice had. Even more miraculously, Lemon had said yes. Well — Kiara had screamed finally the second Juice was done talking, and Lemon had smiled and led her out of their shared apartment to have their first date (bowling, which Juice lost terribly but refused to admit it), and she’d actually tried to pay for her own lunch for once, so. It had been kind of a big deal.

“You know what?” Lemon says quietly after a while, eyes straining to keep open, “Maybe I’ll take you up on that nap.”

Twenty seconds later, she’s passed out, drool collecting at the edge of her mouth. It’s honestly a little unfair, how it makes Juice’s heart squeeze inside his chest. She kind of wants to take care of Lemon forever. Is that normal? To look at someone and have your heart ache with how much you want them to be happy? Kyne probably has something philosophical to say about that, something about how it’s easier to care about others than about yourself, but honestly — it’s just easy to care about Lemon.

*******

“Are we there yet?” Lemon asks after she wakes up, voice groggy and drawling.

“Three more hours to go,” Juice huffs, handing her a bottle of water. “Drink up.”

“Thank you— oh, gross,” The yellow haired woman frowns, swiping at the drool on her chin.

Juice laughs warmly. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it Lem.”

“I got your seat dirty. Do you have wipes or something to clean it up?”

“Lemon, it’s fine. That seat has seen far worse than a little bit of spit.”

The younger woman goes uncharacteristically quiet. “Oh,” she gapes.

Juice mouth hung open,. “I didn’t mean— I promise nothing a catholic priest would frown upon has taken place inside this vehicle.”

Lemon grins, small, like a flower blooming on cracked pavement. “That’s, comforting," she giggles, “Although a catholic priest might frown if they saw the way you desecrate food when you’re hungry, Princess.”

“The disrespect,” Juice sighs, “I’m never buying you lunch again.”

Lemon gasps. “Never?” She asks incredulously.

“Never.”

Her eyes go impossibly wide, lower lip jutting out like a small puppy.

“That doesn’t work on me like it does on Rita.” Juice smirks, lying through her teeth, because it was working on her and she could feel her resolve crumbling by the second.

“Juice,” Lemon whines, dragging the word out, voice high and pouty and— no. It’s not going to work. “Please, come on.” She tugs on the blonde’s sleeve, lightly, not enough to jostle her, but Juice knows that if she turns even a little she will be faced with far too much cuteness for a single human being to withstand.

She’s not about to admit to this though. Some weaknesses are too great to be shared. “Maybe not never,” she ponders, face contorted in deep thought.

“I can live with that,” Lemon says, looking very smug.

Juice kind of wants to kiss her. She wonders if Lemon would be okay with that. That’s what people who date do, she knows from Priyanka and Tynomi getting handsy whenever they go out, Kyne and Kiara pecking at each other when they find something the other’s doing remotely endearing. Hell, even though Juice has never been in a proper relationship, she’s had more than enough kissing experience. Being with Lemon is different though; it feels more real, more special. She wishes leaning in to kiss her could be something they do instead of just something she thinks about until she has to stop herself.

Juice can’t bring herself to actually ask, though. Not yet.

*******

“So.” Juice says, rubbing at the back of her neck. “You can’t hate me.”

“Juuuuice?” Lemon’s eyes narrow. It looks more funny than it does intimidating, with her highlighter hair still messy from the nap she took in the car. “What did you do?”

“Remember how you said you wanted to spend the weekend someplace where we could appreciate the nature and not stay cooped-up inside?”

Slowly, Lemon nods. “Yeah, I did say that.”

Juice bit at the inside of her mouth, winking brightly to cover up the fact she’s nervous as all hell. “Well,” she says, “funny story. The place I booked is apparently very couple-oriented.”

“Couple-oriented?” Lemon tilts her head. “But we are a couple, Juicy. Not a prime example of a traditionally functional relationship, but I feel like that’s to be expected, considering it’s, um, us.”

Juice winces. “Yeah, the thing is—they only have double beds.”

The wide-eyed confusion clears from Lemon’s face instantly. “Oh,” she sighs in relief. “I thought you were going to say something bad.”

“This—this isn’t bad?” Juice asks. “You don’t mind sleeping with me? Well— you know, not sleeping sleeping. Just sleeping. Regular sleeping. Non-emphasized sleeping.”

Lemon laughs. “I don’t mind sleeping with you, Juicy. We’ve already slept in the same bed, anyway. And I know you’ve had plenty of.. experience.”

“Yeah, but—,” Juice says. “That was—.” That was before.

“Hey,” Lemon says, “It’s fine. I’ll just push you off the bed if I’m uncomfortable.”

“What—,” Juice starts, approximately three seconds away from launching into a disciplinary tirade, when Lemon leans in to grab at the front of her shirt and pulls her closer to whisper in her ear, smile turning mischievous.

“Besides,” She grins, “this seems convenient. Maybe we could squeeze in some sleeping too.”

All the blood drains from Juice’s face (and a considerable amount of it heads towards other, far more unfortunate, directions). This is not happening. She is not getting turned on by the sound of Lemon’s voice whispering the words _emphasized sleeping_ in her ear. That’s, like, the most unsexy thing you could say to someone. 

“Brat,” Juice huffs, voice high and cheeks suddenly very warm. “Horrible brat. Who raised you?”

Lemon giggled, “You love me.”

“Yeah I do.” Juice rolled her eyes fondly, bopping her on the nose with her finger playfully, “Just go get the luggage from the car,” she says, shoving Lemon away.

“Can’t wait to sleep with you!” Lemon laughs, giving Juice a big, cheesy wink before heading off unbothered in the direction of the car.

Juice foresees a lot of cold showers in her immediate future.

*******

The bed, it turns out, is _fucking tiny_. Just big enough to pass as something that’s supposed to fit two people, but barely. Lemon, who had, up until then, made all the thinly-veiled bad jokes she could think of, goes quiet.

“That’s— actually really small.”

“Yeah,” Juice scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. “Yeah, it’s.. its really fucking small.”

Lemon looks worried. “Maybe I could take the couch?”

The blonde stares. “That doesn’t fit half of you, and you’re short.” She says, ignoring the fact the younger girl has at least a couple of centimetres on her. “Do you want to wake up feeling like a fold-up seat?”

It pulls a small laugh out of Lemon, and Juice is more proud of that than she probably should be, under normal circumstances. Tynomi likes to use the term sappy, but she’s the one who buys Priyanka food if she just pouts the right way at her, so. She probably shouldn’t judge too much.

“I’m sure I could squeeze into it,” Lemon says, not meeting her eyes. “My legs might fall off, but that might make you feel better because I’ll finally be shorter than you—“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Juice narrows her eyes, sharply ignoring Lemon’s teasing. “If anyone’s taking the couch, it’s me.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Juice pauses. “I’m starting to get worried here,” she grins. “Since when don’t you shamelessly take advantage of me?”

Lemon pushes her, frowning. “I don’t do that,” she whines. “I just— I like it when you take care of me. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

A functional, emotionally competent adult might have had something nice to say to that. Juice, who is neither functional nor emotionally competent on a good day, says, “Thanks, Lem.” and pats Lemon’s shoulders hard enough to dislocate something.

“No problem?” The yellow haired woman replies, looking a little like a wounded puppy.

Things are going so well.

*******

What is already kind of a disaster only gets worse when Juice forgets to bring a clean shirt with her into the shower. She contemplates just waiting for her eventual death in the hotel bathroom, but that seems like it would take a while, and she’s getting hungry. (And if it takes her fifteen minutes in front of the bathroom mirror to come to this decision?— well.)

“Forgot to bring a shirt in,” she says, by way of explaining why she’s standing in the hotel living room half naked. She’s not ashamed of her appearance by any means, but as Lemon turns around to look at her maybe her cheeks do flush the slightest bit pink.

Lemon’s eyes are the widest Juice has ever witnessed them. Around the icecream she’d been biting into when the blonde stepped out, she says, a little choked, “Tits.”

Juice picks a clean shirt out of her suitcase and tugs it on. She doesn’t need a mirror to know his ears have gotten red. Lemon is chewing very slowly, eyes still focused on her chest.

“Oh, the food’s here,” she says, plopping down into a seat across from Lemon and ignoring the heat spreading down her neck. She reaches for an icecream just as Lemon puts her own stick down, mouth glossy and red from the cold.

“You’ve got a little—,” Juice mentions quietly, gesturing to her mouth.

“What?”

“A little bit— right here.”

Reaching across that table and thumbing at the corner of Lemon’s mouth is most likely the stupidest thing she’s ever done. Including that time she bet Priyanka he could eat an entire pizza in under two minutes. Lemon goes unnaturally still, watching as Juice’s finger swipes the drop of ice-cream from her cheek.

“Oh,” Lemon says, smiling wide, “Thank you, Juicy!”

***

They go for a walk after eating, and it’s a little like scene out of a movie. The moon is large and beautiful on the sky, the air smells of salt, and water laps gently at the shore. If Juice were female lead material, maybe this would be the part where she reaches out to take Lemon’s hand, where she kisses her beneath moonlight and whispers the things she can’t say aloud into her skin.

Juice is Juice, though, so she watches Lemon steadily make her way through a stick of cotton candy large enough that it makes her wonder if humanity’s hubris has gone too far, and doesn’t do any of that.

It’s kind of wonderful, still. Lemon is like a little kid, marveling at everything, from other people’s dogs— which she crouches down to pet and talks to like she expects them to answer— to the seashells washed up on the shore, to the way the stars light up the sky.

“Look, Juicy,” she says, every single time, and Juice can’t seem to stop smiling, even when Lemon splashes seawater her way and makes her chase her along half the shoreline.

On their way back, Lemon gets ambitious. The hotel room has something resembling a stovetop, and she decides to make soup for a warm night in.

“I’m not taking you to the ER if you get second degree burns,” Juice says, sitting atop a countertop and watching her every move like a hawk.

“I can take myself,” Lemon smiles, unperturbed, adding starch syrup and chili powder into the pot.

Juice tries to be discrete about her hovering, but judging from the way Lemon smirks when she offers to cut the garlic for her, she doesn’t succeed.

“I can handle a knife,” She smiles easily, eyes shining, “I’m not a kid. Or Scarlett.”

Juice laughed, throwing her head back. “She can swallow fire but can’t cut a slice of bread without breaking something.”

“True.” 

Lemon hums while she cooks. Her yellow hair falls all over her face and she’s prances around the kitchen oversized tee shirt swallowing her small frame. It’s the most domestic thing Juice thinks she’s ever done in her entire life, and she truely wonders how it took her literal years to realize how much this girl means to her.

“Lemonie.” She tests out the word on her tongue, getting a feel for it. She likes the way her voice sounds when she says it, pretty and caring and bright. 

The woman in question looks up from the pot. “Yep?”

“Nothing, I just— wanted to say your name.”

Lemon smiles at that, her humming getting a little louder.

When she’s done, after she ladles the soup into a bowl, she dips a spoon into it, and says, “I think I did a good job!”

“Debatable,” Juice teases, and Lemon sticks her tongue out at her. “It’s not bad, I guess.” Juice can’t help it, a part of her always wants to tease when it comes to Lem. Maybe it’s self-defense. She dips her fingers into the bowl, and flicks them in Lemon’s direction. Sauce splatters all over her cheek, a little landing on her chin.

“Juliana,” she whines, wiping at the soupy mess in disgust.

“What?” Juice smirks, “If it’s actually good, you shouldn’t mind.”

“Oh, really?” Lemon asked, lunging at her, taking hold of her hands and rubbing her dripping cheek all over Juice’s face.

It’s gross, and a little sticky, but the largest part of Juice’s brain can’t seem to shut up about how close Lemon is, and when she darts her tongue out to lick at the corner of her mouth, Juice shuts down.

“Not bad,” Lemon agrees, nodding her head proudly. “I did a good job.”

“Can I try?” Juice asks, albeit the slightest bit hesitantly. 

“Yeah, sure,” The younger woman beams, going to pull away. “There’s plenty more in the bowl, you can just—,”

She doesn’t let her. Juice, surely possessed, pulls her in and kisses her gently. Lemon yelps, moves too fast, and their foreheads crash together. “Sorry,” she says, clutching at her own head. “I didn’t mean— to do that.”

“It’s fine,” Juice laughs, trying very hard to ignore the throbbing ache long enough to get coherent words out.

“It’s not like I don’t want to kiss you,” Lemon rushes to say. “I do. I promise I really do. I just— I haven’t done it much.”

That’s actually a little surprising. Juice had always assumed the other woman had people falling over themselves left and right just to ask her out. Of course, that doesn’t mean she’d say yes, but— she’d said yes to her and Juice kind of assumed she wasn’t special.

“By haven’t done it much—,” the blonde asks, curiosity getting the best of her like always. “Do you mean, like, not at all?”

Lemon winces. “Like twice, both with Pri when I was sixteen, just because we both wanted to know what it was like.”

“Oh,” Juice nods to herself. Then, “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked.” Suddenly, the headache doesn’t seem like such a pressing concern.

The younger woman shakes her head. “I should’ve told you, I just don’t know how— how to talk about this stuff with you. We don’t really, ah, do that? So I guess I thought bad jokes were the way to go. Which might have just been me trying to manage the fact I was panicking really hard on the inside.”

“We could,” Juice starts. “Talking can’t hurt— not any more than this, anyway.”

Lemon smiles, small and shy. “I—I kind of don’t know how to say it,” she admits.

“Say what?” The blonde asks. “Come on, it’s just me. I’ve seen you puke your stomach out with Kiki.”

Lemon flushes. “I know, but still, saying I think about your ass like three times per day and also I might want you to choke me has different—connotations, you know?”

“You want me to choke you?” Juice echoes, mildly panicked. 

“I really like you, Juicy,” Lemon says, which is probably not what most people say in response to that question but— She’s really pretty, and Juice is so far gone. 

“I really like you too,” she says.

This time, she leans in slowly, carefully, gives Lemon enough time to pull away. She doesn’t, and their mouths meet gently, still tasting a little like chili powder and garlic, but also— more. Also also — Lemon, opening up for her, her mouth warm and inviting and the subject of so many guilty dreams, finally moving with her own. Also also also — real and dreamy and perfect.

That night, when they go to bed, Juice wraps an arm around Lemon’s waist, their feet tangled together, and kisses her goodnight (and only yells at her about hogging the blanket once).

And, if they miss breakfast because when they wake up because Lemon is all around her and everything is warm and comfortable and Juice takes some time just to catalogue the different kinds of sounds she can pull out of her with gentle touches and careful grips— well.

She doesn’t mind. Not at all.

**Author's Note:**

> You like? You don’t like? Lmkkk <3 :)


End file.
